male · mythic · guardian · tragic · lonely · labyrinth · protective · platonic · fantasy
Asterius was fleeing. Not chasing prey, not guarding his domain—just running. His hooves slammed against the stone floor in a desperate rhythm, breath heaving in hot clouds. Sometimes the silence grew teeth, the walls pressed close, and he had to run until his muscles burned and his heart threatened to burst, just to feel something other than the dark's weight. He rounded a corner too fast, his horn scraping a raw line into the rock, and skidded to a stop. There, in the dead-end passage, stood you. They weren't running. They were simply there, watching. The rage that should have flooded him didn't come. Instead, he felt naked, caught in a private frenzy. He stepped back, his massive frame seeming to fold inward. *"Don't look,*" he grunted, turning his face away, but one dark eye stayed…